Behind The Bookshelf
by CooperGirlHH
Summary: While trying to find justice for a young marine Gibbs stumbles across a homicide case that goes back twenty-one years. Little does he know that his key witness for solving both cases will once be one of the best men he will ever have worked with. Pre NCIS, slightly AU, ignores the content of "Baltimore"
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: GUYS - I'M LOOKING FOR A BETA READER! ANYBODY WHO WOULD LIKE?**

**Let's just say I'm not a native English speaker and I am new to this fandom. Although I have written fanfiction -I've never written NCIS before. Mostly Harry Potter and that was years ago!**

**About the story: It's a Gibbs-meets-Tony-for-the-first-time-story and therefore kind of AU, since we all know how they first met. I tried to get the characters right but I'm open for any kind of constructive criticism. Flames, however, will be ignored.**

**Last of all - this is fanfiction. I'm writing it not for money. **

**Enjoy!**

**Chapter 1**

The phone came to life with a sharp ring. NCIS Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs grabbed the nuisance from where it lay vibrating on his desk and flipped it open after giving the caller ID on the display a quick check. "Yeah Abs?"

The voice of the forensic scientist came through loud and chipper. She was clearly excited, usually meaning that she had found something interesting. "Hey there Bossman! I have something for you. Come down and see for –"

She couldn't even end her sentence before he snapped the phone shut. Gibbs got up from his seat and headed towards the elevator, leaving his team staring after him, puzzled. Of course, he could have told them that he was on his way to Abby's lab – that Abby had found something in their evidence. But Gibbs wasn't a man of many words. He also believed in a leading style, where his subordinates were to work things out for themselves. He left it up to them whether or not they followed. However, they chose to remain at their desks this time.

When Gibbs arrived in the lab, large Caf-Pow in hand, he found the goth lab tech Abigail Scutio – Abby as she preferred – bouncing on her platform highheals, venting excited energy as she pointed at the screen just above her head. It displayed the picture of a young woman, probably in her thirties. She was rather pretty in Gibbs's eyes but there was something about her look that didn't quite seem to fit. Maybe it was her old-fashioned way of styling – she looked like straight from the seventies or early eighties. Not that Gibbs minded. He simply noticed things.

"Who am I looking at, Abs?" He handed her the drink he had bought from the vending machine on his way down.

She turned to face him. "You, Mister, are looking at the picture of Mrs. Mary DiNozzo, wife to Anthony DiNozzo Sr., a reputable business man from New York. You may have heard of him before – like, read something in the paper – no?" She gave him a look, then shook her head. "Well, what was I thinking – I'm talking to the Gibbs-Man, eh?" She winked.

Rolling his eyes impatiently Gibbs tried again, "Abby – _why_ am I looking at this picture?"

As if she had just remembered the actual case, Abby pointed at the screen again. "Okay, so Mrs. DiNozzo was murdered in 1980 in their house in New York and –" A short dramatic pause including wide grin, then, "she was murdered with the same weapon as Petty Officer Burgess, the young man currently lying in the Duckman's care down in autopsy."

"Why didn't you just say so?" Gibbs asked, needing only a few seconds to process the new information. His eyes came to rest on the woman's picture once more. "So Petty Officer Burgess's killer maybe killed before."

"It's unlikely that it's the same killer", Abby replied. "The man who shot Mrs DiNozzo has spent the last twenty-one years locked up safely behind bars. Unless, of course, they had the wrong guy back then." She hesitated then her eyes lit up. Excitedly, she clapped her hands toether as if applausing. "Oh Gibbs, do you realise what we might be after? An innocent man might have been in jail for over twenty years and it is up to us to correct this."

"Not so fast, Abby, he might just have passed the weapon on to someone else. But could be a lead, nonetheless," said Gibbs. Undecidedly he eyed the keyboard in front of the tech, wondering which key to press so that he could access a little more information on the old homicide case. Before he could press any though, Abby's fingers were already dancing over the keyboard. Soon the complete casefile was uploaded onto the screen. Gibbs started reading but found it hard to focus. Clearly, he was going to succumb to needing his reading glases soon. Not today, however; Abby had given the case file a closer look already.

She recounted the necessary details while gesticulating vividly. "It was the family chauffeur who was convicted for the crime. Apparently, when Mr. DiNozzo came in after hearing the gun shot – he must've been in a different part of the house – he found his chauffeur and his eight year old son in the room with his bleeding wife. So old DiNozzo tells police that it was the chauffeur, Andrew Brown, who shot her. He even testified against him in court. Nobody ever found the weapon, though."

"And the boy?" Gibbs asked.

"According to the file, the boy had been in the room during the shooting, but he had hidden himself behind a bookshelf and hadn't seen anything. And what's really hinky here is that there was no motive. A vase lay broken on the floor and Mrs. DiNozzo was quite clearly drunk when she was killed. In the end, Brown was convicted for manslaughter, not murder. It was agreed on by the jury that she must have attacked him in an argument and he shot her in anger."

Brows knitted, Gibbs thought the whole story through. Abby was right this was – how did she say? Hinky. There was no motive, only a broken vase – a vague hint at an argument. A husband who blamed his personel. A son who had been around but claimed to have seen nothing. To _know_ nothing. And a bullet that came from the same gun as the one that killed a young Petty Officer twenty-one years later.

Gibbs cleared his throat and gave a curt nod at the computer screen. "Can't hurt to look into it," he said. "Means we need to speak to Andrew Brown, Mr. DiNozzo and the boy – especially the boy. Better try finding him first."

"Well, that was a long time ago, Gibbs, he's not a boy anymore. Actually he's twenty-nine now – and, well –" Abby grinned, smugly, "– I already found him." Her hands moved over the keyboard again. A new picture appeared on screen along with a personel record. An annoying good-looking young man was looking back at Gibbs now. "Meet our witness, Gibbs; Anthony DiNozzo Jr., currently detective with Baltimore PD."

NCISNCISNCIS

Special Agent Stan Burley had learned a long time ago that it was wise to keep an eye out for Gibbs, the team leader, especially when you expected him back from a visit at Abby's lab. The man moved without making a sound and if you weren't on guard he tended to appear right out of nowhere – and usually he would be behind you barking commands making you feel and look like a complete idiot. Stan, however, liked to anticipate, be ready for action when action was needed.

And so he didn't miss the moment the elevator doors opened revealig the boss who came straight towards his desk, barking, "Burley, you're with me – Blackadder, go help Abby find more information on an old case."

Across from Stan's desk Special Agent Vivian Blackadder jumped up from her seat and slipped off towards the closing elevator's doors without a word. Like Stan she lived in constant fear of their boss, although though she had more trouble hiding it. It was, actually, quite easy to look good next to her – or at least so Stan thought. As he grabbed his backpack he contemplated whether to ask where they were going or keep his mouth shut. A look at his boss' face suggested it might be safe to ask now. For the moment Gibbs even looked almost satisfied. It was the expression he usually wore when he had a new lead on a difficult case. And the murder of Petty Officer Rodney Burgess had so far proved to be a tricky one.

The young petty officer had been murdered in a seedy part of town. Gun-shot wound to the head – which had killed him instantly according to the ME Dr. Donald "Ducky" Mallard's findings – and obviously robbed but there was no way of knowing whether it had been his murderer who had robbed him or some junkie who had happened to pass by and find him. The team had dug into Burgess's personal life only to find that he practically had none. Mother deceased, father unknown. No siblings or other close relatives. His superiors and comrades had not much to say about him, either. He was a commendable marine, always examplary in his bahaviour and attitude. Also, nothing hinky in his financials or phone records.

As the two men crossed the Navy Yard towards the agency's car park Stan finally dared asking. "Where're we headed, Boss?"

"Baltimore."

Stan let out a low whistle. He had of course not expected Gibbs to deliberately offer more information than strictly necessary. But going to Baltimore? That required an explanation. "Boss?"

"I'll tell you on the way," growled Gibbs as they got into their sedan. "Get in, I'm driving."

'Of course you are,' Stan thought. 'Otherwise we might actually arrive in one piece.'

However, the ride towards Baltimore went a lot slower Stan had anticipated – not that he minded. They had hit the beginning of the late afternoon rush hour and traffic was soothingly slow. Stan sent a silent prayer that this would not have to much of an effect the boss's mood.

"So, what's in Baltimore?" he pressed, carefully.

"Abby found a connection to a twenty year old case. Young mother was shot. Son witnessed the scene. We're talking to him."

"What kind of connection?"

"Weapon's the same."

That did sound like a lead. He thought it through for a moment then asked, "So what's your guess then – after twenty years the guy's now thinks, it's safe to kill another person with a weapon he'd not used since back then? Like he lived down the past or something?"

"Not necessarily the same killer," Gibbs replied. In front of their sedan a mercedes changed lanes unexspectantly and they nearly hit.

"Dammit!" Gibbs growled as he slammed his foot down on the breaks and continiud swearing for the next couple of minutes. And with the expression he wore now Stan decided he was better off waiting until the boss had calmed down before asking any further questions.

NCISNCISNCIS

Thankfully the rest of their trip was uneventful and went down in comfortable silence, much to Gibbs satisfaction. They arrived at Baltimore well into the evening. Although Abby had texted him the home adress of Detective DiNozzo, Gibbs decided to check out the police department first. The young man might be a little more straight forward about information if the agents didn't invade his home privacy for an interview. And working in law inforcement there was a good chance he was still on duty, as Gibbs knew from experience.

The police station was busy despite the evening hour. It took Gibbs and Burley just a little persuasion at the reception to be led into the chief's office.

Chief Littleston, a short wiry man in his late forties or maybe early fifties, offered them a seat and a glass of water each before asking, "so, what brings you here from D.C. at this time? I was just about to leave for tonight, to be honest."

Gibbs ignored the water glass that stood, slightly dripping, in front of him on the chief's massive desk. "Young marine was murdered in D.C. three nights ago. One of your detectives, DiNozzo, might have information we need. Need to speak to him."

"How's my detective to be involved? Hang on – you don't think he would –" asked Littleston sounding exasperated.

"No," Gibbs replied but offered no more.

Littleston gave him a long suspicious look then sighed. "Okay, I'll have him come into my office – you're in luck, he's still on duty tonight." He picked up his phone, but Gibbs placed a hand on his arm effectively stopping him.

"Is there anywhere we could talk to DiNozzo alone?"

Drawing his eyebrows togther the chief hesitated. "Probaly just our interrogation rooms."

"Okay, arrange him to meet us there," said Gibbs getting up. He was quite aware that the chief most likely didn't approve of his attitude. But he cared little about the other man's feelings. He wanted nobody from the department to participate in the interview. After all, DiNozzo was not a suspect just a witness, at least for the moment, and Gibbs didn't want to start rumors among the cops. Besides, he and Burley were about to dig into a very unpleasant episode of the detective's past and the less people knew about that, the better.

Littleston, clearly not happy with situation, dialed a number on his phone and had a police officer come to pick them up. After a short explanation from the chief the young woman led Gibbs and Burley into one of the interrogation rooms. "Please, sit," she offered before she left them to themselves.

It took at least fifteen minutes before the door was opened again and the man they had been waiting for entered. Gibbs recognised him from his photo easily enough. DiNozzo remained standing by the door for a few seconds, surveying the agents with open curiosity written across his thin features. Gibbs was just about to say something when the detective finally walked around the table slowly and took a seat opposite the agents.

Gibbs introduced himself and Burley shortly.

"You know," DiNozzo said, his testy tone not fitting his rather friendly expression, "usually I'm the one sitting on your side of the table. But then – I'm usually the one to do the interrogation. Guess you guys changed the rules though –"

"This seem like an interrogation to you?" Gibbs asked trying but not quite succeeding in sounding patient.

"Nah –," replied DiNozzo casually slipping deeper into his seat. Suddenly however he straightened up again quiclky. „But oh wait – yes! See, I don't usually get pulled away from my work into an interrogation room – and at this time in the evening, too – to be questioned by the feds. What agency was it again that you said you're working for?"

"Naval Criminal – " Burley started replaying but Gibbs cut him off sharply.

"NCIS."

"The Navy cops, is it?" DiNozzo said. "Okay, let's hear it – what can I do for you?" For a moment he made the impression as if he was going to put his feet on the table but he refrained from it.

"Have thought of Andrew Brown lately?"

DiNozzo paled slightly but the smile on his handsome face stayed firmly in place. "Guy who shot my mother," he said, his voice now slightly strained. "That's been a while, though."

"Well according to the case file it happened twenty-one years ago – when you were eight."

"Seems like you know all about it already. So where's this conversation going?"

It was time to get to the point. "What do you remember of the night?"

The detective scrunched up his face as if thinking hard. "Well, let's see – I think – yeah, well, everything should be in the case file to which should have access. If not, I think it should be easily arranged. Now if you could please excuse me, guys? I need to get back to work; got a case to report on, a couple ones still to solve and a partner to annoy the hell out of. I'm a busy man." With these words DiNozzo got up and let a wide smile light up his features. He winked at Gibbs, clearly testing the agent's patience.

Well, he got the wrong man – one didn't fool with Jethro Gibbs. „Sit," the agent ordered. He regarded the detective thoughtfully for a moment. The young man was hard to figure out. Why was he still smiling? How come his words were uncooperative yet his expression could be interpretated as open and friendly? A walking contradiction.

When DiNozzo remained standing where he was Gibbs wondered if maybe he was approaching the situation the wrong way. The man wasn't suspect after all. But before the senior agent could say anything Burley spoke up. "Look, detective, we would really be grateful if you could tell us the whole story, the way you remember it. It could be vital to bringing justice to a young marine."

DiNozzo still stood, hesitantly, one hand placed on the door handle the other one in his jeans pocket "Don't know what exactly to tell you. There's little I remember, anyway. See, I was kind of small back then and it was a long time ago. Guess, I'm sorry, guys, but I really can't help you here." With these words he opened the door and slipped out of the room leaving Gibbs torn between frustration and furiosity.

"That went well," said Burley sarcastically, leaning back.

Gibbs shot him a glare – the younger had guts to let out a comment like that. Gibbs's glare however always effectively shut him up but what now? There was no giving up where Special Agent Gibbs was concerned. "I say, we'll give it another try. Tomorrow. In the meantime, find us a place for the night. I want you to contact Blackadder first thing tomorrow morning. Find out what she and Abby came up with."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Guys - I LOVE your reviews! Thank you so much - I really appreciate them! Thanks also to all the followers and people who favourited the story. It's good to know you're enjoying the story!**

**Some of you have been saying I ****don't a Beta reader, yet still if anybody might ****volunteer? If not so be it. **

**On to chapter 2 where we're getting to know Tony a little bit better :)**

**Chapter 2**

Two hours after his short interaction with the federal agents homicide detective Tony DiNozzo leaned back on his desk chair with a tired sigh. It had been a long day. Across from his desk his partner Danny got up and stretched, then put on his jacket. Reaching towards the printer where he had just printed out his latest case report – family tragedy where a father had killed his ex-wife and his two daughters – Danny yawned without covering his mouth. He looked about as bad as Tony felt.

Baltimore was a busy place for cops. Or maybe there just weren't enough cops around, Tony wasn't sure what exactly it was. His own report was still unfinished but that was no surprise; he hadn't written more than a few words in the last two hours. His concentration was all screwed up since stupid NCIS had brought up hazy memories about his mother's death. So instead of working Tony had looked for a more effective diversion from those memories and easily found that in annoying Danny by throwing paper balls at him. It was a wonder that his partner had managed to get any work done at all. Tony was secretly impressed but then, Danny had become quite skilled at ignoring his partner's episodes of juvenile behaviour.

"I'm calling it a day," Danny announced as he switched off his own computer. His eyes came to rest on his partner. "You know, you should go home as well, Tony – finish the report in the morning. You look dead on your feet and haven't gotten anything done in the past two hours –"

Tony flashed his partner his best smile. There was no need for Danny to know how badly riled up he really was. "What do you mean – I scored more hits on your head than ever before!"

Danny was trying to hide a smile as he insisted, "go home!"

"Sure thing Danny-Boy, I'll be just a few more minutes – see you in the morning."

With Danny gone the bullpen was almost deserted with only other detectives still at work, brooding over their files. Tony briefly considered staying in and looking at some older cases himself. There was never as much peace and quiet here as there was this late in the evening – but at the same time there had never been so little concentration on Tony's part. Checking his watch he realised it was nearly 11:30 p.m. anyway.

"Screw them old cases," Tony said out loud, speaking to noone in patircular. It made the two other cops look at him. "What?" he said with a shrug. "You guys never talked to yourself before?"

He received no reply – but he hadn't expected one, either. Even if he wasn't unpopular in the department he was aware of the fact, that most of the other cops thought him to be a little strange. Not that Tony minded, though.

He picked up his jacket and car keys and left the office wondering what to do with the rest of the night. Going home and straight to bed was probably the most sensible thing to do but right now it didn't seem possible. Tony was sure that he wasn't going to find sleep any time soon – so why bother trying? In fact it probably came to two one out of two options: either going through the contact list on his phone and call up one of the chicks he had recently convinced giving him their number. Or venting his remaining energy on a late evening run.

Arriving at home he chose the latter option, quickly changing into his running gear. After thinking it through he had come to the conclusion that he wasn't in the mood for wine, sex and questions about what was on his mind. Fortunately, the night was still relatively warm for late September even now at the late hour, making the work out more enjoyable.

As he jogged casually down the street towards a nearby park Tony's mind wandered back to the short conversation he had had with Special Agent What's-His-Name? Ah, right – Gibbs. And his companion – whose name Tony could not recall no matter how hard he tried.

It wasn't that Tony was usually uncooperative when interacting with other LEOs, not even the feds. Well, not as a rule, anyway. But these two had caught him on the wrong foot – what with the gruesom case he and Danny had just wrapped up. And then they had asked him about his mother – and it really had been the worst possible moment for that. Tony didn't want to think about that particular night on a good day. In fact, he had pretty much succesfully avoided thinking about it all for the last twenty-one years. What was he supposed to suddenly remember now that wasn't in the file?

Maybe Agent I'm-Oh-So-Intimidating-But-My-Haircut-Sucks Gibbs hadn't read the file? But then no, that wasn't likely.

Tony was so absorbed in his thoughts he tripped over a branch that lay across the path and came close to falling forward on his knees. It was thanks to his agility that he managed to catch and righten himself in time, vowing to better look out better. This was really unlike him. He usually didn't get that lost in thoughts – usually he made sure of that.

Trying to remember the connection between his Mom's case and the one the Navy cops had on their hands Tony found that he couldn't. He strained his thoughts but without success. It made him wonder – had they actually even told him? Thinking about it that way Tony came once more to the conclusion that noone could blame him for having been uncooperative. He had, after all, made his experiences with federal agents. They had a neverending thirst for information but did they ever give you any bit of it in return? No – and it annoyed Tony to no end.

When he returned from his run he had his mind made up to find out about the connection between the cases. The time was nearing 1.00 a.m., though, and Tony had exhausted himself enough that he thought it safe to try and find some sleep. Getting on Gibbs's nerves would have to wait until the morning.

However, he still lay awake well into the early morning hours unsuccesfully trying to get rid of certain incomplete memories. He hadn't told the agents a lie after all. His recollection of the evening was hazy to say the least. All he could remember was his Mom being drunk after an unpleasent visit from Dad's sister and her husband. They were in Mom's study – just her and Tony. But what had made him crawl behind that bookshelf Tony had no idea. What he did know was that there suddenly was a loud voice – Mr. Browns voice? – and that terrifying noise – the gunshot. Next thing Dad came barging into the room while Mom was lying bleeding on the carpet.

The scene kept replaying itself in his head until in the early morning hours exhaustion finally took over and put him into a fitful sleep.

NCISNCISNCIS

Gibbs arrived that the police department at 0700 hours sharp while Burley was still in the motel and on the phone with Agent Blackadder. The night had been restless for the senior agent and he had awoken with a slight back ache but he put it down to the uncomfortable motel mattress. He was probably getting too old for that kind of accommodation. However he had a job to do and there was no room for complaining about having had a restless night. Or an unpleasant wake-up call from a soon-to-be ex-wife questioning him on his whereabout a 0600 hours.

After checking with the secretary at the reception whether Detective DiNizzo had arrived yet and finding out that he hadn't, Gibbs took to waiting in the parking lot. He enjoyed the cool early morning air, especially with a steaming coffee in his hand – and, though one might not believe it, the coffee he had bought from the small shop next to the department was actually drinkable. More than that – ist was good.

He had waited about ten minutes when an old mustang pulled up – the car he had been waiting for as he found out a minute later. One look at the detective told Gibbs that the younger man probably had even had a worse night – he was looking tired and slightly disheveled. However, Gibbs suppressed all sympathy he might have felt under different circumstances. He had his investigation to focus on.

Tired or not, when he noticed Gibbs DiNozzo flashed him the same wide smile as in the previous evening. „Special Agent – Gibbs – was it? Back for further questions? Pobably you are, aren't you? Pity I still can't do anything for you. See, I've been racking my brains all night, but I didn't come up with anything you shouldn't already know –"

Gibbs was impressed. How could so little be said in so many words? "In that case," he said thoughtfully, "I might be on the wrong track. However, I find that hard to believe."

"You can believe whatever you want, Sir. But – if I may ask – what exactly is the connection between your case and my mother's anyway?" DiNozzo asked.

"No need for you to know," replied Gibbs gruffly.

Drawing his brows together DiNozzo lost the smile as quickly as he had put it on. "Well, to be honest I was hoping to get a little information in return. I mean, not that it really matters since that case is yours to solve, but I was kind of hoping, since it has something to do with a rather important event of my life, that you'd let me in on _some_ details –"

"We have the same murder weapon in both cases," Gibbs replied carefully watching the young man's expression. Whatever effect the announcement had on him he didn't let it show.

"Same weapon, huh? Guess, I shouldn't be surprised. They never found the gun back then. Have you talked to Andrew Brown yet?" Gibbs shook his head – no – making DiNozzo continue, "you should to to Mr Brown next thing. Hey, I might even come along!"

"No," said Gibbs without thinking. "No I don't want you to come. Man supossedly killed your mother. How could I let you interrogate him?"

"Never mentioned I was going to. But maybe it couldn't hurt to stick my nosey nose into this case. It concerns my family after all."

"That's exactly the reason you'll stick to the role of being witness not investigator. And until five minutes ago all you wanted was us to leave you alone."

Clearly ready to reply on that DiNozzo opened his mouth but Gibbs' phone chose that moment to ring and he answered the call holding up his hand which surprisingly stopped the younger man from talking.

"Yeah Burley."

His agent's voice came through clearly and loud enough that probably DiNozzo could hear him, too. "I just spoke to Viv, Boss. She'll be on her way towards New York to speak to Andrew Brown, get his side of the story. I told her we would meet on the way since we'd be going in that direction, too – pay a visit to DiNozzo."

"I'm right here," the detictively piped up. Gibbs shot him his best glare hoping it would shut him up like it usually did with Burley or Blackadder. No such luck. "Now I get it! He's talking about my Dad." He snatched the phone out of Gibbs's hand, leaving the agent spechless, and carried on, "You won't have any luck finding him in New York – or anywhere else in the States if you ask me. He is probably currently in Europe or Asia – or maybe even at the South Pole – whoever knows? The old Man's always where business is calling him."

On the other end there was a short silence then much to Gibbs's dismay Burley asked, "Who am I talking to?"

"My, my, Agent _Burley_, can't you guess? I thought you were an investigator?" At that moment Gibbs grabbed his phone back.

"We're meeting back at the motel, Burley, in ten minutes, grab a bite to eat and be off. Make sure you're prepared – I'm bringing a guest." He walked over to were the agency sedan was parked but turned when realising that the younger man wasn't following. "What?" he growled. "You waiting for a personal invitation, DiNozzo?"

The young man's features widened into a satisfied grin as he jogged up to the agent. "No, Sir."

"Don't call me Sir!"

The grin only became broader.

NCISNCISNCIS

It was nearing 8:30 a.m. when Tony arrived back at the station. His partner, Danny, looked up surprised when he passed by his desk.

"Morning Tony – you're in late. Overslept?"

"No I just came back from a date," He saw Danny's disapproving expression – and grinned. "Relax, man, no broken hearts involved! It was just those Feds again – remember? They need help with a case – and as it happens – I'm just the guy to provide the right information and –" Tony paused, "– well, you're not gonna like that, buddy, but I'm going to need a few personal days."

"Not my decision to make," said Danny with a shrug. "When was the last time you were on leave?"

Tony shrugged. "Can't remember?"

"Well, not in months so Chief should give you permission. We don't have any active case at the moment, anyway. Just be sure to fisish that report some time today. You can write it at home and email it to me –"

"Sure thing, Danny-Boy."

Tony was not sure what exactly had caused him to make up his mind to go to New York with Gibbs. The silly fool was still hoping he would meet Tony's father there to question him. The mere thought nearly made Tony snort. Wherever Senior was, it was usually not where you needed him. However, Tony had talked the agents into taking him along. He had tried to put it down to mere curiosity, but knew it wasn't true. In fact, Tony wondered if it was time he confronted his past. He thought about it before but had always let it go. This time things were different – thanks to Gibbs. There was no stopping the agent from investing the case - and whoever knew what he was going to dig up? Maybe it was best to be around and keep an eye on things.

But first he needed to speak to the chief. Littleston was, of course, not yet in his office, but his secretary, Lydia, handed Tony a a request form to fill out. After he had signed it he handed it back to her with a wink and a smile, then left. It was risk, for the chief would probably not like him leaving without his approval, but Agent Gibbs was waiting outside. And that man wasn't of the patient kind.

It had taken Tony a lot of his most persuasive charm to convince the agent to take him along – but finally mentioning the possibility that visiting the place where it happended might trigger some memories did the trick. Gibbs, of course, had wondered about his change in attitude, and wouldn't stop asking about it. There was, however, nothing that Tony could have told to answer those questions. It was too difficult to explain.

On his way out Tony made a little detour to the vending machines in the basement, where he got himself a chocolate bar and coke. The he hurried out to meet Gibbs and the other one. Burley? He had already forgotten the name again.

As he made himself comfortable inside the agents's sedan he saw the chief's car pull into the park lot. "Damn," he mumbled.

Gibbs turned around on the front seat. "I thought you requested leave?"

"Yeah, sort of" replied Tony slipping deeper into his seat. "Let's get going, why don't we?"

Gibbs sighed and started the car, obviously decideing that it was non of his business. Soon they were out oft he city and Gibbs pressed down on the gas in a way that made Tony's stomach churn. Nonetheless he pulled out the chocolate bar from his pocket and unwrapped it. At the sound of it the agent gave him a look through the rear mirrow.

"You hungry? Been less two hours since we ate breakfast –"

"Oh – I'm always hungry." Truth was, Tony wasn't hungry, especially not considering Gibbs's rather uncomortable driving style. But he hadn't had much sleep and he had to get his energy level up. After all, he had appearances to keep up. „See, in our line of work it's always wise to be well-fed. You never know what kind of situation you're getting yourself into and what if you're attacked by the bad guys and can't shoot them because hands are shaking from hunger –"

"Shut up, DiNozzo."

"Shutting up, Agent Gibbs. – Though I might say you're not my superior." It got him one of those glares but Tony ignored it. "By the way, it's Tony. But you don't do first names, do you? What's your first name, anyway, Agent Gibbs?"

This time the glare made Tony think if looks could kill. He considered getting on the man's nerves a little more just fort he fun of it. But then, who knew what the agent might do? Kick him out oft he car when they were halfway between Baltimore and New York, maybe right in the middle of nowhere? No, as hard as it was – Tony hated long silences – he kept his mouth shut. But through the mirrow he gave Gibbs another one of his huge grins hoping it to hide effectively how stressed he actually felt. There was, after all, no way to to foresee what a visit to his father's place might bring to light.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I'm really anazed how many of you guys reviewed! Thank you so much for your support! To show how much I appreciate it, I made this chapter a little longer ... :) **

**A little explanation: there's a part written in italic letters. You will realise that it's flashback :) **

**Enjoy!**

**Chapter 3**

Special Agent Vivian Blackadder hated questioning prisoners in jail. Though, unlike most of her male colleagues thought, it wasn't so much because of how the inmates looked at her, wistled and usually made sexist comments when she passed by. Instead it was more because of the fact that, every time Vivian walked through the corridors of a prison she could feel their hopelesness. Secretly, she held actual sympathy for the people who had ended up in there. After all, some – if not most – of them would never live a normal life ever again.

Sometimes she wondered if not she should have become a social worker; she would helping people to avoid jail or at least maybe help them get out. Instead now as a federal agent she was getting them in.

She had met with Stan Burley in the parking lot where the boss had dropped him off. To her surprise there had been another young man in the back of their car hopping out as soon as the tyres had screeched to a hold. A tall slim guy who had flashed her a grin while quite obviously checking her out. He had been about to introduce himself when the boss had jumped out of the car, walked around it to open the passenger door and pushed him man back inside, impatiently.

Stan had explained who he was. But even without that Vivian would have known. Last night she had spent hours working through the case file of Mary Dinozzo's homicide. She had seen enough pictures of her husband and her son, even recent ones which Abby had dug up.

"Were's Gibbs going?" Vivian asked as they were led through the building by a miserable looking, fat man in too tight uniform.

"He is taking Detective DiNozzo to the crime scene."

"What crime scene? I mean – you don't mean – to the place where Mary DiNozzo was shot?"

Stan nodded. "Exactly there."

Vivian creased her brow. "That _was_ a crime scene - twenty years ago. He is not expecting to find any evidence there, is he?"

"No, I don't think so. I guess it's two reasons, one: he wants to speak to DiNozzo Sr. and two: it's supposed to help our witness's memory."

"Hmm," Vivian mumbled thoughtfully, "it's not like this is our actual case."

"No, but the boss thinks we're on the right track. When we find out who really killed Mary DiNozzo we're quite a few steps closer to finding Petty Officer Burgess' killer as well. You know the boss's gut, Viv – it tells him where to look."

"So according to what you've just said, you think the man we're about to interview is truly innocent."

Stan shrugged. "He might, but I am not sure. Wish I was."

The guard in front of them suddenly stopped walking and opened a door on their right to reveal a sparsely furnished room. He had only a table and couple of chairs in its middle. "Here we are. Mr Brown will be brought in soon."

Accompanied by another guard the old man entered about five minutes later. Andrew Brown was a white haired balding man in his seventies. He eyed the agents warily as if he didn't know what to expect of them.

"If there's any trouble we'll be right outside the door," the guard said before he left the room.

But Brown didn't look like a man who was about to give them trouble. In fact, he looked physically unable even if he had wanted to. The way he surveyed Stan and Vivian sceptically he probably didn't put any hope into the meeting. However, he started the conversation by asking, "does your appearence mean than after twenty years someone's finally going to find out the truth?" His tone was not unfriendly.

"Mr. Browns, first of all we would like to thank you for speaking with us," Vivian said. "I am Special Agent Vivian Bkackadder, my partner's name is Stan Burley. We're federal agents with NCIS."

"What?"

"NCIS; Naval Criminal Investigating Service," Stan explained. "We'd like to talk to you about what you remember from the night you were arrested –"

"Why?"

Shortly Stan explained what little the man needed to know.

Brown let out a disappointed sigh when he realised that the agents weren't actually there in his account. "You're just questioning me because of that young Marine, aren't you?" he asked after listening to Stan's explanation. "You can't prove my innocence, can you, Stan? Vivian?"

The use of their first names took Vivian by surprise. Stan however adjusted to it quickly. "No Andrew," he said seriously. "We can't. And we can't promise we will be able iafter our investigation is conducted."

Brown let out a sigh. "Thought so."

"It might help, though, to hear the whole story from your point of view. Please tell us all you remember and leave nothing out. When it helps us solving our current case it might also help us find out what happened to Mary DiNozzo in 1980."

Brown hesitated, so Vivian added, "if you are innocent, Andrew, we'll make sure that the case will be reopened."

"Fair enough," said Brown. He closed his eyes as if going right back in his mind to the evening twenty-one years ago. "When I worked for Mr. DiNozzo and his family I was practically always on duty, even if there was nothing for me to do. And that particular evening I had nothing to do. I used to sit in the hallway reading a book until either my services were needed or Mr. DiNozzo would send me home. That night the DiNozzos had guests – family, Mr. DiNozzo's sister and her husband. They were all having having dinner.

"The spent endless time in the dining room. I was almost sure Mr. DiNozzo had forgotten to tell me I could go home, but I couldn't be sure if the family was staying over night. He might have wanted me to take them somewhere, maybe the train station where I had picked them up earlier. Then suddenly Mary DiNozzo came out with their boy in tow.

"I think she saw me sitting in the hall, but she didn't really seem to acknowledge me. In fact, if I remember it correctly, she was drunk, muttering nasty things about the in-laws. After how she had spoken of them I was pretty sure that I would be taking them back to the train station – and soon. So I decided to go out and warm up the car, take it to the front door. Nobody came to ask for my services, though.

"Then I heard the gun shot. The noise was coming from one of the ground level rooms. I was sure it was Mrs. DiNozzo's study. I ran into the room as fast as I could and found her lying on the floor. The other door that led from the study to the living room, which was ajar. From there the killer must have gotten into the kitchen and probably out of the house unseen."

"And nobody ever considered this?" Stan asked disbelievingly.

The old man shrugged. "There was a wittness – Mr. DiNozzo. He wasted no time in blaming me, said that I must have been in a fight with his drunk wife. Maybe he thought I had been coming on to her – I do admit she was pretty, but no, I would've never – The police, however, was only too willing to belive him. So was the jury when he spoke in court."

"And what about the vase that was broken?" Vivian asked. She couldn't help feeling sorry for the old man.

Brown smiled sadly. "I don't know what happened to that vase. But when I kneled by Mary's dead body on the floor I suddenly realised that Tony was there, too. Maybe you need to interview him. He was the DiNozzo's little boy – only eight years old when it happened. Think he might have been there all the time while it happened, hidden behind one the bookshelves. He never spoke to he police as far as I know – and his father managed to spare him testifying in court, too."

"How come?" Stan wanted to know.

"Ah, you see, Mister DiNozzo was an influental man. Wouldn't be surprised if he played golf with the judge and the prosecutor every other weekend. Guess, he put in a word in for his son. Poor Tony – I do understand why his dad wanted to spare him the testemony. He'd witnessed his own mother's murder – if only by ear probably. He must have been traumatized. Went through enough already." The old man's voice became thoughtful. "Wonder what became of him –"

"He became a cop," Stan blurted out with a grin.

It made Brown smile. "Figures somehow – doesn't it?"

NCISNCISNCIS

Gibbs shot the young man in the passenger seat an annoyed look. "Can't you just sit still?" the agent growled.

DiNozzo – Tony, Gibbs corrected himself in thought – put on an apologetic face. "Nope, not an option. Sorry, if I get on your nerves. When I was little my Mom used to hate it when I fidgeted while she drove. Guess we won't have to worry about _that_ any more –"

He would have rattled on hadn't Gibbs shut him up by using his darkest glare. He also barely refrained from reaching out to slap his hand across the detective's back of the head.

They drove in silence for another few minutes, then Gibbs grumpily asked for further directions. His gut told him that they had nearly reached the DiNozzo's family estate.

Happy to be invited to talk again Tony offered, "you have to take the next turn left and then right again and there we are. Home, sweet home – haven't been here in a while –"

Doing as he had been told, five minutes later Gibbs parked the in front of stone wall that marked the end of a rather huge estate with a pretty manor in its middle. That was what Detective DiNozzo was calling home? Nice home indeed. Reading the case file on the younger man's mother, the agent had of course known, that the DiNozzo came from money but seing it now was something completely different.

"So you sure you father won't be around?" he asked, getting out of the car.

"Nah," Tony replied lightly. „I wouldn't say I'm _sure_. But there's a pretty good chance he's not here. You see, these days he's never here longer than a coupe of days every other month –"

"How're we going to get in then? You have a key?"

"Don't need one. Nadine the maid's going to let us in. She's always liked me, you know? Since Dad hired her a couple of years back. When we were still on speaking terms –"

"Which means – right now you're not?"

The younger man looked abashed. "Nah, kinda not. Senior is not an easy man to be around –"

"But the maid's letting us in anyway?"

"You listening at all? I said she likes me." DiNozzo walked up to the gate, pressing the electric bell**.** Soon enough a female voice crackled through the speakers of the intercom.

"Tony! How good to see you!" The gates opened.

Gibbs creased his forehead. "How can she know it's you?"

Smiling widely DiNozzo pointed at the intercom. "Camera," he said then hurried through the gate and up the unbelievingly long path to the front door. Gibbs found himself sruggling to keep up to the other man's stride without having to break into a jog. Was that another sign of aging? Or just the mere fact that the younger man had longer legs?

The path towards the door seperated after a bit, one way leading up to the house, the other to the garage. Gibbs could only guess what kind of car was inside. He wondered, what man grew up with money like this and chose to become a cop? Was it because of what had happened to his mother? Meanwhile, the front door had open to reveal a woman in her late thirties. She was quite a nondescript kind of person Gibbs thought; jeans, jumper, dirty sneakers. Not exactly an outfit he would have expected on a housemaid. But then, if the house wasn't lived in who was to care?

While the woman was still greeting Tony Gibbs stepped up closer. He didn't think he needed an invitation to go inside the house but then the maid suddenly held out her hand, stopping him. "I'm sorry, Sir, who were you again?"

"Oh, that's alright, Nadine," said Tony quickly. "That's – er – Gibbs. Friend of mine. Well, sort of." He turned to face the agent. "Gibbs, you really ought to tell me your first name –"

Gibbs, however, had no intention of doing so.

After Tony's introduction, at least Nadine seemed comfortable with him entering. She stepped aside, asking, "Can I offer you anything – to eat? Drink? Tony, if you just drove all the way from Baltimore you ought to be hungry."

"He drove." Tony pointed at Gibbs. "But I'm hungry anyway. What about you, Agent _Grumpy_? Would you like anyything? What can you offer, Nadine?"

Before Nadine could even reply Gibbs shook his head. "Nothing for me. Unless – you make good coffee?"

"Won't find any better," Nadine replied. "You can sit in the dining room until everything is ready. Tony, you didn't come to talk to your Dad, did you?"

Again, Tony pointed at Gibbs. "He did."

"Well, Mr. DiNozzo ist on a business trip to Asia. I am not expecting him back before next week." With these words she disappeared into what was probably the kitchen.

When she was gone Gibbs turned to the detective. "Need to contact your father but for now – which room was it?"

"You're always straight to the point, aren't you?" said Tony. "Okay, let's have it." He walked through the hall not bothering to take off his shoes or jacket and opened the second door to the left. It led into a small, dimly lit room that was furnished like a study. Huge bookshelves framed the room on the right side, reaching up to the ceiling and almost along the complete length of the room. On the left side there was a massive desk next to another door. Opposite there were two large windows with the curtains drawn, letting little daylight in.

Tony crossed the room in only a few long strides and then turned around himself a couple of times. He looked uncomfortable but only for a few seconds. Then his features settled into the usual grin.

"Funny how Senior has't had this redecorated," he said. "I mean, of course he'd had the carpet done. What with Mom's blood all over it. But apart from that everything's still the same." His eyes came to rest on Gibbs. „ I'm probably even gonna find a couple of manuscripts here somewhere. See, Mom was a writer. She never wrote anthing big though – just mainly short stories and ficlets – merely for my entertainment. Never published anything or made any money from it – that was fine, though. Dad's company was successful – he made enough money for us to afford all this.

„Before Mom met Dad she was a professional athlete. She was on her way to getting big. But then Dad came long. I don't know how, but he must have charmed her somehow into marrying him. With him she was less disciplined. Drank more. Gave up her sports carrier." He caught Gibbs expression „But that's not what you wanted to know, is it?"

Gibbs didn't reply. After the short time he had known him he had a gut feeling that it was best to just let the detective talk. That was probably the safest way to get information out of him. If asked directly he would just be beating around the bush.

Tony obviously took Gibbs's silence as an agreement. He sighed. "Okay, here we go then." He pointed to a spot in the middle of the room." That's where Mom lay." Next, he moved towards the windows and pointed towards the narrow space between the shelve and the wall opposite the door. „That's where I was – jeez, can't believe I fitted in there –" He creased his forehead pushing himself as far into the booth as he could now, making Gibbs wonder if he was trying to relieve the scene.

"So let's just say I'm in there", he said, staring the wall in front of him. "I can recall Mom telling me to hide here. So again, here I am – and she's over there where you're standing – and then I hear the door opening. Next thing a gun was being fired – man, still remember that was loud. Must've been the loudest thing I'd ever heard –"

Gibbs had no doubts about that. He had some unpleasant memories of his own many of which included the noise of a gun being fired. Pain welled up in Gibbs's middle as he thought back to what had happened to his own family, his beloved wife and his small daughter. They had both been slaughtered by a Mexican drug dealer. Despite having had his revenge – the pain, Gibbs had long since realised, would always be a part of him.

As quickly as the thoughts had welled up Gibss suppressed them – waiting for Tony to continue with his story.

"It took some time before I was able to crawl out of my hiding place. But when I did, I saw Mom lying bleeding on the carpet. She could've been dead already by then – I was too young to tell. I didn't know what to do – but then Mr. Brown came in –"

"What about the vase?" Gibbs asked.

"Vase?"

"According to the case file there was a broken vase on the floor."

Tony shrugged. "I don't remember." Suddenly the young detective looked very exhausted. Gibbs almost felt bad about poking further but he had to.

"And you are sure Mr Brown came in _after_ you found your mother lying there?"

"Yes – but that doesn't mean he can't have done it. For all I know he could have walked out and come back in. There was enough time for that."

"Okay, but what was his motive?"

The detective's mouth opened as if we was going to reply but then Nadine poked her head in. "Just came to say – coffee's ready."

One look at Tony told Gibbs that it was over for now – he woudn't offer any further information. Indded, the younger man simply turned around and walked out of the study leaving a perplexed Nadine and an unhappy federal agent behind. When he called out from that hall, his voice sounded chipper as if nothing had happened. "What's for lunch, Nadine?"

NCISNCISNCIS

For the second time in a row Tony couldn't sleep. It was still very early but Nadine had talked him into trying to take a nap. With the curtains closed the room was in semi-darkness and he took a long look around. It was his old bedroom, he'd had grown up here – at least when he hadn't been sent away to boarding school or summer camp that was. After Mom's death, Tony remembered, there had been a lot of sending away what with Dad being so busy all the time.

The place brought back a lot of memories – good and bad ones; Mom reading to him when he was little, Dad ranting when he had found out that Tony had been out playing basketball and forgetting his maths homework over it. The personel that had taken care of him after Mom had died and before Dad had started sending him away most of the time.

Funny, Tony thought, how he had always managed to charm people, win their hearts over – but not his own father's. Did the old man blame him? Or did he simply see so much of his wife in his son that couldn't bear to spend time with him?

As it was Tony had grown used to the feeling of not being wanted by his father. Instead he had learned to enjoy the times he was away more than the tmes at home – even when Senior had sent him to that gruesom military academy. He had simply concentrated on doing what he wanted. Back then all that Tony had wanted – from a very small age – was playing professional basketball – a fact that Senior had always hugely disapproved of. Unlike Mom; she had always been supportive of her son's wishes especially when he wanted a professional sports carrier which she herself had missed to achieve.

Dad on the other hand had never had any interest in sports. He had wanted his child to take over the company – for a long time at least. As Tony got older it became more and more obvious that that wasn't going to happen.

Undeliberately, Tony's thoughts wandered back to the night his mother had died. He remembered having dinner with the family. Dad's sister Gina and her husband Federico had come to visit from Philadelphia. Tony hadn't liked his aunt Gina – she had had a way of making him feel inadequate – just like she had always had a way of making Mom feel that way, too. He could steel remember her scrutinizing glare, looking him over all the way from head to foot.

„_Mary, how come the boy is so skinny?" Gina asked, her eyes fixed on eight year old Tony as she knitted her brows and pulled a face. „He is supposed to be his father's child, but Anthony was never that skinny – especially not at that age. He was always well-fed and healthy."_

_Tony could see anger in his mother's features as she placed a hand on her son's shoulder, protectively._

„_I mean one can see he takes after Anthony, though," Gina continued. „At least he has his facial features but really, that boy doesn't look healthy at all."_

_Tony was torn between feeling embarrassed and angry. As far as he was concerned there was noting wrong with him. But Dad's family had never really approved of Mom or him. _

_He could see that Mom was starting to get a bit red in the face. She had had to listen to Gina's opinion about her all evening which had been enoguh already, but now that her sister-in-law was attacking her son, it nearly made her go over the edge. __Of course, Dad was not going to have her arguing back. Loyalty towards the family was too important to him._

_Mom needed a few minutes to calm herself down. Her hand on Tony's shoulder squeezed lightly then she said, „well, he takes a little bit after me, as well. And I can assure you that he is perfectly healthy, too." With these words she gulped down the rest of wine that was still in her glas and got herself a refill. _

_After dinner Dad and Federico went to talk business in Dad's study which was upstairs right next to Tony's bedroom. As soon as they were out of the door Mom grabbed Tony's hand and shooed him from his seat and out of the room, leaving Gina to find her own way to guest bedroom. __They went into her study which surprised Tony. He had, in fact, expected to be put straight to bed after dinner. But she seemed to have other ideas._

_In the study she gave him a manuskript to read – one of the short stories she had written __–__ and said, "wait here, Tony – I need to talk to your Dad – about Fererico." _

_When Mom came back she was in a rage, pacing up and down the room. At one point she even smashed her favourite vase in her anger. It made Tony anxious. But s__uddenly she became very still and put her finger across her mouth. "Shshsh –"_

_Tony was confused. He hadn't said anything. But he listened closely __– __there were steps to be heard in the hall and then there was a noise Tony did not recognise then – a clicking noise __–_

"_Tony – Tony – go hide yourself," Mom whispered – she was really anxious now._

_There were few places to hide – but there was the little space between the bookshelf and the back wall. In a hurry Tony squeezed his small body into the tiny space. Not a second too early; t__he door was opened. A gun shot was fired. Then a voice said, "now you won't go to the police anymore, bitch."_

For a split second Tony's heart stopped when suddenly he remembered whose voice it had been. He threw away the blanket and jumped out of bed looking for his cell phone – there would be no sleep for him tonight.


End file.
